Trey's Dilemma
by Velvet D'Coolette
Summary: Trey has been injured, leaving him at the mercy of Frost, the village medic. Frost is a kind enough character, but a tangled web of jealousy between Trey, Frost, and a mutual ex, leads Trey to a dilemma.
1. Chapter 1

Trey's Dilemma

At first, Mac was aware of nothing except the lurching of his own body back into consciousness. He was overwhelmingly dizzy, felt something that could have been either imminent nausea or physical pain, he couldn't yet tell which, and trying to force his eyes open was like lifting the biggest rock he'd ever hefted.

Something bad had happened! His awareness honed swiftly into sharpness and he figured that the sickness wasn't sickness at all but pain - but the lurching continued. His eyes flicked open and he looked up to see the mean serrated jaw of an icewargreymon.

Frost.

"What-" he almost asked before the details of the fight came back to him. A desperate battle between himself and his partners against a myotismon whose intentions had never become clear beyond just wanting to destroy. He remembered the fight in flashes: the myotismon's tightly-controlled movements that meant that his lack of bulk hardly mattered in battle. His chess-master approach to the fight that meant he seemed to anticipate Mac and his allies' movements even before they'd made them. Between them, Mac, Trey and Tundra had been no match for the enemy mon.

Fighting myotismon was difficult beyond belief - everybody knew that! Why had they done it? _Because it hunted us,_ he remembered and repressed a shudder.

The others... He tried to scrabble against Frost's arms - or more specifically, the wide armour on his forearms - to sit up even as he was carried. His body protested heavily but he had to know. "Where are the others? Trey? Tundra?"

"They're both here, Mac. Just try to relax. You burned yourself out," said Frost, his voice deep and rich and, despite the forbidding tone he had a talent for, soothing on this journey home.

Mac settled back down in Frost's grip but felt troubled. "I used up all of my energy? That's bad."

Frost graced him with a sort of sideways nod: agreement, but also sympathy. _These things happen,_ said the nod. _Especially against the undead._

That was as maybe, but Mac couldn't - or wouldn't - shake the feeling that believing that could come to any good. To believe that losing against a myotismon was just the natural way of things... it was a defeatist attitude, and therefore a dangerous one.

But what more could be achieved by thinking about the myotismon now, when he was so badly injured? Mac tried to focus on soothing his mind, and contented himself with arching backwards to look around Frost's back and around generally. Who else was here? Who else had come to his and his partners' rescue?

The rescue party was large. That made sense - it would have taken that many other digimon to scare off a myotismon. Sai walked with understated elegance by Frost's side. Behind Frost were Sinber the bancholeomon, his expression uncharacteristically grim as if he'd become sorely angry during the fight ( _Or afraid,_ Mac supposed with a stab of worry) and Jared the bladeleomon - both subtly leonine and always watching out for each other, however subconsciously. Each of them carried one of Mac's partners; Trey's head lolled and Tundra looked tense, curled up as if in great pain. Drack the magnamon looked similarly grim - the natural watchful reptilian look on his face was replaced, at least for now, and betrayed only a distinct sense of unease. Angelos the exveemon similarly so, although his deceptively soft-looking wings looked notably tense. The campy bruiser caught Mac's gaze, smiled slightly as his brow furrowed with concern, and looked away again. Spir the rapidmon managed to look entirely unaffected, insectoid-looking mon that he was. Mac wouldn't have known anything was wrong judging by his studied indifference. Finally there was Rex the omnimon, who made his armour look weightless even though Mac knew that was untrue, walking like a king returning from battle - so noble that Mac couldn't tell whether it was a march of victory or defeat.

Finally Mac's eyes fell upon his two brothers, Max and Mark. White saiyan wolves both, their expressions broadly grim but with subtleties Mac was able to pick up for knowing them so well. They were each superficially injured but walked steadily enough. Max's eyes met Mac's and the older brother nodded stiffly.

"Did you kill it?" asked Mac to the group at large, and noticed how difficult it was to control his jaw and tongue. The words came out mangled. The unconsciousness was coming back again.

Mac looked up at the sky, aware that his mind had begun to swim. The sense of the party was bleak. He felt as if he should ask what had happened, how bad it'd got, but he just didn't have the energy any more. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

Just before he drifted back into unconsciousness he heard Rex say, "Do you want me to take over carrying him, Frost?"

xXx

Towards the rear of the group, the two Saiyan wolf brothers watched as their younger brother's eyes closed and he fell unconscious once more. What could they say at a time like this, to each other or to anybody else present? Max suffered the worst in the expectant silence - perhaps because he was the oldest and had always felt he shouldered the most responsibility. He seemed restless even as he paced along, blatantly unhappy to be unable to help his younger sibling.

Mark kept glancing at him, feeling a persistent sense of anxiety himself. "Max, come on. There wasn't anything more we could do. We're not exactly the big hitters here. The others fought well enough - you saw them."

"He's our little brother!" Max, as ever, glared at him for this attempt at moderation. Mark could see that Max's heart wasn't in the glare, though, and that it was just another effort to act when he felt powerless. Max finally eased up as Rex gave him a subtly warning look. "We should have done more."

 _You think we should have gone? With my power? With yours, for that matter?_ Mark deliberated over whether to say what was on his mind and tentatively decided to say it only when Max's tension seemed to be on a relatively low ebb. And when there was less chance he'd feel humiliated by his lack of control being mentioned in front of so many other warriors. "Max, I'm too weak to fight a myotismon. Far too weak. And you..? It'd only end up using your own strength against you."

"That doesn't matter!" snapped Max and looked hard into Mark's eyes, challenging him.

Mark, despite his small stature, held the gaze until Max gave in. They both knew such a disagreement would never come to blows. Not between family, not between brothers.

Finally Max dropped his gaze. "It still doesn't feel right," he mumbled.

And Mark could only agree.

xXx

Sinber and Jared looked at each other as they listened to this exchange, each with a quiet smile.

"Think that's enough of an invitation?" Sinber asked Jared under his breath.

"Worth a try," Jared answered, and began to compile his plan of approach. To make this happen would mean working with that most fragile of materials: the ego of a hungry young warrior. There was no guarantee this was going to work but he prepared himself as best he could.

The two leonines changed trajectory to join the eldest white saiyan.

At first all Max could do was look sullenly at them both. The two felines waited it out and eventually he opened the conversation, although whether he knew that's what they were waiting for they could only guess.

"Thank you for today."

Mark nodded, smiling just enough for the two wolves combined. A truly uncomfortable smile, like many of his smiles.

"You're welcome," said Jared, and left just enough of a pause before continuing. "You're a strong fighter."

Max gave him a sideways glance and hesitated before speaking. "I don't think I fought my best today."

"I've seen you in better flow," offered Jared.

"You're not going to tell me I did my best, are you?" Max laughed, a little too loudly.

Jared smiled at the attempt at humour. "No, although I think it is true, given your current skill level. You can do better. We all can, for that matter. But a myotismon must be handled carefully, and a fighter with less discipline is at greater risk. I have a few ideas for how to help you learn better control."

He watched carefully but casually as Max went through a thought process that he suspected went in the order of defensiveness, shame or guilt, and curiosity. The saiyan looked at his fallen brother as if trying to figure out a way to answer that embodied everything he felt.

 _Yes,_ thought Jared, _Inner peace is not among your strong points._

Max's glance was obvious enough that Sinber was able to answer, taking over from Jared. "The path of the warrior is fraught with hurdles Max. Feeling that we have failed our family and friends is among the worst. But what marks the warrior as special is the ability to use hurdles to grow."

Max looked at him as if begging him for more help than that, and Jared was relieved that Sinber was in a good enough mood to be level-headed, despite their semi-defeat in the battle. The fact that he was parroting things Jared himself had said before was fine with him if it meant Sinber didn't end up getting upset enough to throw blame around.

Meanwhile, Sinber clearly chose to speak frankly on the matter: "Yes, it is true that you could have fought better today, and that you were fighting for your brother. Of course you wish you'd been stronger. Perhaps this situation will happen again. So take up Jared's offer," he concluded, putting a companionable yet slightly overbearing hand on Max's shoulder, made harder and more artificial for the fact that he was busy carrying an unconscious Trey.

Max looked at the ground as the group walked along and Jared saw the conflict in the wolf's eyes. To admit that he had fought at less than full capacity was to admit that he had done less than his best for his brother, and Jared understood very well that this was painful. But he had to do it if he was to accept.

Sai came to the rescue, joining their huddle with his usual aethereal grace. "I have help to offer you, Max. Every fighter can benefit from greater focus if they allow it."

Jared offered Sai a discrete smile of thanks, but the taomon did not see it. His focus was fully on the saiyan wolf instead. Jared fought the urge to say anything else. _Less is more, so the saying goes._ But Sai was the perfect person to talk about focus. His body was slight but his mental power made him exceptionally great - it was not his brute force but his precision that gave him an edge. And what an edge it was!

Max looked around at them all, and finally at Mark. Mark nodded almost imperceptibly and Max sighed. "Okay. Thank you," he spoke gloomily, his hands clenched and rubbing his fingers against each other in agitation.

The group went silent, and soon Max noticed that Jared was giving him a raised-eyebrow look. The wolf shook himself. "Sorry - yes, thank you Sai. I'd very much appreciate that."

Sai bowed graciously and walked on.

"So," piped up Mark, "When will you two start?"

Another chuckle rippled in the conversation and Jared looked over to see Drack laughing, his great shoulders shaking with humour restrained mainly by his own weight.

Mark gave him a butthurt look. "What?" Jared noted how often Mark did this: showed his resentment because he was so well-known for being a weak warrior. The youngest of the saiyan brothers did his best, but his best never matched up to the others. As the designated pipsqueak - by the standards of their group, at least - he felt safe being petulant because he felt certain that nobody would take his threats seriously.

It was believed by the others to be a problem. Was Drack truly approaching Mark about it now, of all times? Jared believed so.

Soon enough Drack managed to stop his great blue shoulders from shaking. "All this talk about self-improvement has made me restless to train. How about you, Mark?"

Mark blinked at the bigger male. "Me?"

Drack returned him with a friendly, yet unwavering gaze. "You."

Mark shrugged uncomfortably and looked away. "Well, I don't exactly... This isn't quite the time I'd choose to... Why are you asking me this?"

"Precisely because of that, I think dearie." Angelos, whose unusually soft voice carried surprisingly well among the gruffer tones of the group, seemed to relax a little as he joined in.

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

Angelos rolled his head - his own version of an eye roll. "Your strength, darling. Focus is all well and good, but you can be stronger."

Jared silently hoped Angelos' unsubtle approach wouldn't put the youngest wolf off and readied himself to intervene if he deemed it necessary. That said, the no-nonsense approach tended to work for Angelos.

"Don't call me darling!" Mark retorted.

Angelos tilted his head airily. "Or you'll what?" The exveemon didn't threaten others lightly - and despite his choice of words this was no threat. Jared recognised it for what it was: playfulness, cleverly disguised with Angelos' dry sense of humour.

Mark opened his mouth to answer but the words caught in his throat. He shut his mouth again and tried smirking at the ground instead. It looked too full of anger for him to pull it off right.

"Train with us," Angelos offered simply.

"I'm not big enough," Mark shot back, although it was a wavering retort.

"So?" asked the winged warrior.

"So..." He eventually gave up and sighed. "So nothing. Thanks." He produced another of those angry grins and stuffed his hands in his pockets. He walked on and looked everywhere but at the ones who had offered him help: at the grass, at the tree line, at the blue sky and white clouds that felt entirely inappropriate for the grimness of the day.

The big males around him understood his discomfort well enough and said nothing. The job was done: he had accepted their offer. Nothing more had to be said.

Frost waited a suitable length of time and spoke up. "Two new, dedicated training programmes. You will all need support. Allow me to play secretary and arrange for all of this."

"Thank you Frost," said Jared with a polite nod, closely followed by a similar sentiment uttered brightly from Drack.

"And while I'm doing that, I'll manage Mac's post-injury care and rehabilitation."

Max and Mark both spoke up simultaneously but it was Mark whose voice won out. "He's our brother. We should be the ones to care for him!"

"He will certainly benefit from being under your care," said Frost with a nod. "You are family, while I am not. But I would like to add my expertise to the effort."

The two young brothers were unconvinced so Angelos put a big, gentle claw on Mark's shoulder. "Mark. Frost has a lot of experience with this. An injured and exhausted mon is very hard, intensive work, and it's too easy as a carer to make mistakes when you are tired. Trust me, I _know._ Listen to Frost. He knows what he's talking about."

"Mac will recover whether Frost helps or not," Rex added. "But with his direction the recovery will be faster - and easier for Mac. Accept his offer."

Mark and Max looked at each other, troubled looks on their faces. Finally it was Max who spoke. "You've all offered us a lot of help, and we're grateful. Thank you Frost, we would very much appreciate your leadership."

Rex nodded his approval. "Well said, Max."

The group settled down once again, content that all was taken care of, at least for now. It was Trey's moaning that prompted their next words.

Sinber looked down at his burden. "Either he's having a nightmare or he's got injuries we didn't see."

Jared tilted his head to try and interpret the exact nature of Trey's moaning before glancing at Frost. "Any idea what that is?"

Frost answered without missing a beat. "That's a nightmare. He's not enjoying himself but he'll be safe."

xXx

 _Trey fought his very hardest, his lover and brother both by his side. Normally that would be enough to lend him the confidence he needed but this was a myotismon they were fighting! You didn't just walk away from a fight with one of these things - not unless you were part of a small army and lucky enough to be among the unharmed..._

 _He, Mac and Tundra fought on but Trey could see they were slowly failing. He saw the minor but decisive mistakes, the little miscalculations his companions were making. He noticed his own too and prayed silently that he wouldn't be the one to let them down._

 _He blinked, his body lurched, and when his eyes flicked open again he found himself a mile away. The tall, spectral figure of the myotismon battled on with the weregarurumon and three-tailed saiyan wolf, the battle quiet but curiously, the sound was still instantaneous - not delayed from the distance the sound had to carry. He saw the tall monster swipe at the wolf, cutting him down._

 _Trey tried to sprint forward, aware he was too far away to prevent a catastrophe, only half-caring how the myotismon had sent him so far away but desperate to get close again and protect his tamer and mate._

 _He found that however fast he ran the ground passed underfoot with agonising slowness. The faster he ran, the slower it went by. He could walk it faster! And yet he didn't choose to walk. He couldn't._

 _The myotismon struck Tundra down too and then looked inscrutably at him across that great span of space, and Trey was certain he was the next to be killed._

 _He lurched again. The myotismon's breath billowed in his face and he struck out, not wanting to die-_

"Ohh, steady, steady!" said Sinber as he laid Trey down on something soft and comfortable.

Trey thrashed a little, still half-believing the myotismon was close by, that his two best friends were dead or dying, before the nightmare faded entirely away.

"What-" he asked before Jared shushed him from behind Sinber's shoulder.

"Rest. We'll get you something to calm your mind, and then you need to sleep some more."

Trey reluctantly accepted that but never got his calming medication, for he was asleep by the time Frost came to administer him.

TO BE CONTINUED...


	2. Chapter 2

Trey's Dilemma

Trey startled, certain he was in some dire kind of danger and had to act quickly. However, when he looked around all he could see was the ruffled edges of a comforter tucked up against his chin, the familiarity of the inside of the village infirmary, and the sleeping forms of Tundra and Mac not-at-all far away. Other mon forms were sleeping or laying gazing at the ceiling or sitting up with books or entertainment devices.

The blue dorulumon groaned to himself and rubbed the crumbs out of his eyes. "Nightmares," he mumbled. Now that he was waking up he could remember having other bad dreams. That beast had certainly left an impression. He tried to sit up to check how his brother and lover were doing and winced, his hand coming down to his midriff to nurse the pain. A quick check revealed that he had a short line of stitches and something bandaged that was probably an extensive graze. _Yes, a graze_ \- he remembered getting it now.

Both Tundra and Mac would be similarly injured but neither were on a drip or being watched for the full twenty-four hours, so they couldn't be too badly injured either. He smiled and sat up more gently. He had a lot of bruises, not all of them just to his muscles - he'd clearly impacted his lower back at some point and his knee was swollen. He'd have a limp for a while but he was happy enough to take that instead of losing his life. They'd made it! (Which meant that they'd survived, which given the mon they'd fought was a bonus). They were quite the team, even though they'd had to be rescued, they'd survived on their own for... _What, twenty minutes?_

Trey looked affectionately as his team again. Then he got himself a glass of water which he downed more or less in one, went for another which he sipped at more delicately, and decided to take himself for a brief walk. "Just a leg stretch," he muttered to himself, looking around at the infirmary walls. "I bet I'm going to be in here for a while. I'll get a break in while I can."

He left the hut and closed the door carefully before turning to look at the state of the weather and the time of day. Bright and sunny if a little on the cool side for his tastes with a beaming blue sky. Around mid-day. He took a couple of steps-

-and then he saw Frost, and his mood slumped.

The icewargreymon was approaching with a couple of brown paper grocery bags, probably full of medical supplies. Needless to say, Frost was strong enough to raise one of those burdened hands to wave and offer a tentative smile but Trey snubbed it and took a detour into the woods.

So Frost was his carer until he recovered. That was going to be... awkward.

Trey seethed as he stalked through the dappled light of the forest, the ground cool and damp under his footpads but not yet muddy, the leaves still holding onto their chlorophyll, at least for now. Once upon a time, Frost had betrayed Trey to go with his brother, Shadow. Frost, in other words, was a cheater - the lowest of the low, a liar and a snake. It would have been so much easier if that was all he was, and yet, Frost was also the nearest the village had to a doctor. He was a healer, and he was good at it, too.

Even that would have been fine if Trey could have chosen to ignore it, but with this set of stitches, with the big graze that kept making its presence known and the combination of muscular and skeletal bruises that he could feel every time he took a step, he was under Frost's care. Not that he expected any kind of unprofessional conduct from Frost - not on account of ministering Trey's injuries, anyway - but he didn't want to be the recipient of Frost's benevolence. He could go to hell.

He thought again about his injuries. Everything was most likely treated as much as it needed to be: the graze would heal itself up and probably just needed the bandaging replaced once a day, which Trey could do himself; the bruises would heal, and the stitches would either dissolve or have to be taken out, but that could be done on a quick visit to Frost at a later date. Maybe he could go home and heal there instead. Maybe he didn't have to be anywhere near Frost barely at all. The idea was attractive...

Trey looked back at the hut, barely visible between the trunks. It would have been a great idea if Frost wasn't also looking after Trey's current lover.

The dorulumon sighed and rubbed at his eyes, this time out of frustration. He wasn't in the best of moods, probably because he was sleeping badly. Pain and nightmares had a way of hijacking a good night's sleep, and a bad night's sleep in turn had a way of hijacking a mon's mood. He would be on edge if he didn't stay. And anyway, he wanted to be with his brother and mate while they were healing. He was going to have to keep his mood on a very short leash indeed to keep from being spiteful to Frost.

xXx

Frost deposited his bags of bandages and pain killers and fresh syringe needles by the wall where they wouldn't be tripped over and fished out his clipboard to do a head count. He didn't look after mon in need of intensive care so, like Trey, his patients could go on walks once in a while. He ticked off everymon, leaving Trey unticked until he returned... and saw that both koromon brothers were missing.

Frost didn't worry about Trey - he saw that Trey was nearby and lucid, if in an understandably sour mood. The koromon brothers on the other hand... They hadn't signed themselves out or left a note so it was in his interests to find them. He put his clipboard back in its place and left the infirmary.

Koromon had very unique footprints. Well, footprints was a misnomer: they left regular head-prints everywhere they went. They were hard to track in the grass but it didn't take Frost long to spot the two distinctive sets of round jaw marks on the soft mud at the edge of the woods. He strode after them to see if he could find them.

He walked along, his footsteps deceptively light given the weight behind his muscular form. There was no immediate danger to their health, the main problem was that they were both recuperating so needed to stay in the warm. Having one's head so close to the ground meant it was easy to chill, and a lowered temperature was bad for a, for a...

...Ah.

Well, at least there was no risk they'd get cold. And the endorphines released from a sex session were good for a mon's health. If only the pair had chosen a better partner.

Frost closed the gap to his brother and stood not-quite over him, his arms folded. He didn't want to come across as overly aggressive as he was more interested in looking after the wellbeing of his patients, but he still wanted to make a point and it didn't hurt to use his imposing frame to underline that point. If anymon would know the score on that front it would be his own sibling.

"Shadow," he said pointedly.

Shadow got straight to the point. "I'm not here to fight," he answered, still cradling the two koromon in his arms. They looked reluctant to wake up, blissfully relaxed in his embrace.

"I can see that," answered Frost. "Don't tell me you came here just to have a good time with my patients."

Both mon paused a beat as each remembered the bliss of the afternoon they had once spent together, in absolute erotic abandon. Frost had shed his usual responsible persona for a time, and Shadow had found an intense yet personable warmth in the intense connection in an incestuous clinch with his brother.

And they had been discovered, and in the aftermath Frost had lost Trey.

Frost steeled himself against any further irresponsibility from Shadow, his arms still folded. "And you'd better not have come for me again."

For the moment at least, Shadow seemed earnest about his intentions. "No, brother. No, I did not."

"You need to be quick," said Frost, keen to keep the pace of their conversation up lest he fall into introspection. "I'm supposed to be relieving Lilymon of duty after I've finished with my patients."

"Always the responsible one, brother."

"That makes one of us," he retorted calmly, almost able to convince himself he wasn't being petty.

"Must it be like this?" Shadow asked.

Frost set his expression to avoid frowning any deeper. "You tell me."

Shadow gave him what could only be described as a plaintive glare, before he began to speak. "I came to invite you back to our side."

Even before Shadow had finished speaking Frost was groaning and looking futilely up at the sky, shaking his head at his older brother's stupidity. "Shadow. I have roots here, far too many roots. My position in the infirmiary, the training. Trey. You can't expect me to abandon all of that."

Shadow tutted in disbelief. "Come, Frost. Why do you insist on staying near to Trey after everything that happened? Are you loyal to him still? Did you get back together?"

"It's not just about him! The world doesn't revolve around Trey, Shadow! I have other responsibilities here. I cannot leave an entire village at your whim!"

Shadow allowed himself a moment of glee in this age-old fight with his younger brother. "Because nobody else can apply the bandages or train the troops, can they Frost? Only you."

Frost said nothing, only glowered. The truth was, he knew he was responsible to a fault. Most mon would be content to be a healer _or_ a fighting instructor, but Frost felt better being both, almost as if spreading himself too thin was the only way he could prove himself. And yes, if he was truly honest with himself, being around Trey made little sense. It was true that many mon depended on him, but he had built that life around himself. Shadow was right: he _could_ hand it all over to another mon if it came down to it.

But he would do that wherever he went. It was the life he chose for himself over and over again. That was just the way it was with Frost and to pretend he could somehow ditch that, leave it behind and be somemon else, was absurd. "What would I do on your side, Shadow?" Why would he betray everymon once again?

"To be with family again?" offered Shadow, his haughty grin gone. "Brother, I miss you."

Frost had had enough of this. "Give me the koromon."

xXx

The dirty snake! Trey watched from behind an old, gnarled tree as Frost and Shadow spoke. He listened, but his heart was beating so hard in his ears that it was hard to concentrate on the sentiment behind the words. He was at once obsessive and distracted, shaking with contained rage.

Was... was Frost talking about betraying the village? That's how it came across!

"Come, Frost," said Shadow, complacent that he could talk his brother and one-time lover into doing whatever he wanted. "Why do you insist on staying near to Trey after everything that happened? Are you loyal to him still? Did you get back together?"

 _We most certainly are not!_ thought Trey, furious at Shadow's impetuousness. And to suggest that Frost of all mons was capable of loyalty - didn't know his own brother? Or maybe he did, and he was just that seductive.

"It's not just about him!" Frost's words cut across Trey's thoughts and he actually reeled a little at the sharpness behind them. "The world doesn't revolve around Trey, Shadow!"

 _Fucking hell, Frost! You don't have to be so pointed about it! Did I mean so little to you?_

"I have other responsibilities here. I cannot leave an entire village at your whim!"

Shadow sneered at his brother. "Because nobody else can apply the bandages or train the troops, can they Frost? Only you."

Trey watched Frost process this, and then the great grey mon spoke more calmly. "What would I do on your side, Shadow?" Weighing up the possibility of betraying the village? Was that it, was he tempted?

"To be with family again? Brother, I miss you."

That made Trey grip the tree bark hard for so many reasons.

When Frost spoke again he was still calm, hauntingly so. "Give me the koromon."

So it came to that, did it? Tying up loose ends with his patients before leaving? Trey remained hidden behind the tree and turned his back to it to lean on it and think about all of this, let his mind reel a while.

"I could get in trouble just being seen talking to you," continued Frost.

"Best run along then-" Shadow stopped himself mid-sneer, and tried again. "I still want to talk, Frost."

Trey, agitated from all of this, rubbed at his forehead and let his hand drop to his side in a gesture of exasperation. It slapped against his flank too loudly.


	3. Chapter 3

Trey's Dilemma

"Who... Who's there?" asked Frost, once again taking the initiative.

Trey might have frozen at the sound of two sets of footsteps coming towards him, except that as a trained fighter he was trained to act, not to freeze. He took the initiative back and stepped out from behind the tree to face the plotting pair.

"Trey!"

"Shadow."

The two locked eyes with each other and Trey, his muscles still twitching with fury, made the first move to circle his opponent.

And then Frost blocked his view. Frost's back, to be exact. "Shadow, Trey is injured. He's in no state to fight. Go. Now."

Frost's speech was so calm and authoritative, and so reasonable, that for a moment Trey found himself disarmed. He was a good fighter but didn't like conflict among friends. It was tempting to take Frost's lead and let Shadow walk away. Forget all of this, just let it be...

 _No!_ He was hurt and he demanded satisfaction. "Pick a side," he grumbled before he knew what he was saying.

To his credit, Frost only goggled at him for half a second before his responsible demeanor reasserted itself. He visibly avoided sighing and reached out to Trey with the two koromon. They must have been heavy sleepers, for even after passing from Shadow to Frost to Trey, they didn't wake up.

"I will not fight my friend," Frost told him firmly.

Slippery. That's what Frost was. Given his backstabbing nature, who did Frost count as his friend at this time, in this place? Trey grinned a bitter grin; if Frost would not be up-front enough to declare who was a friend and who was not, Trey himself would. "You are no friend of mine." And Trey reached within himself, and digivolved.

It had been coming for a while. Trey had first felt his next evolution a few weeks ago but had wanted to hold off from digivolving. To evolve, after all, would have meant going to Frost - who after all was one of his trainers - with his bodily changes and asking for help to readjust, to learn the techniques of using his new body more effectively. He hadn't wanted to put himself in that position, to have to go to his betrayer in supplication. Now, however, to be bigger and stronger, even if he was untrained, was an advantage.

He felt a new set of armour materialise over his body, metal that should have been heavier than it was. Or maybe it really was heavy and it was just that Trey's body was growing more muscular, stronger, weightier. That was it! Like the bigger digimon of the village - Rex the omnimon was the first to spring to mind - he was growing mighty!

He was becoming armed, too. A metal pole phased into existence in the palm of his hand and something heavy on the front weighed it down. He instinctively firmed his grip to keep it from trailing on the ground in front of him and watched it complete its manifestation. A staff, armed with a cone-shaped spike, a mean weapon in anymon's language.

First one, and then the other, koromon gasped as they finally woke. They looked up at him, then in panic at the moving metal around them, and bounced down onto the ground to run away. Frost said something to them but Trey didn't catch what it was, his heart was pumping in his ears too loud, his adrenaline roaring.

Metal clamped over his feet, his claws, his calves, protecting every part of him but his neck and head. And good luck to anymon who tried to attack him from the neck up.

As all of this power made his mind and body swell, he felt one chink in the armour, a single weakness. Somewhere out of sight - in the infirmary, in fact - Mac was writhing in pain, weakened by Trey's transformation. _I can't focus on that now,_ he thought, deciding to focus on what was in front of him. _I have to protect myself and the village._ He swept all notions that he wasn't thinking clearly out of his mind. This was a time for action, not introspection!

His transformation reached its conclusion and he allowed himself and his observers a moment to admire his new glory. Gleaming armour ending in cruel points. Shades of blue and yellow and gold, his personal colours. Swathes of long blue fur and a great spear with which to slay his enemies.

Adrenaline still screaming through his veins, he looked at Frost and Shadow and decided that they were his enemies.

"Oh, Trey!" grumbled Frost as he feinted into his first move, his feet moving with practiced ease over the mud and patchy grass.

Trey launched himself at Frost but his momentum was greater than he'd expected and he barrelled into a tree, smashing great pieces of bark off it and leaving deep scratches on its surface before he could turn. He growled at Frost, an animal sound, as leaves and twigs showered down around him. He leapt for Frost again, his armoured claws leaving furrows in the mud.

Frost rolled neatly away and took a side-step, anticipating not only Trey's next leap but also his lack of control over his new weight and size. Had he backed up they would probably have collided. "I'm not going to fight you Trey!" he called as Trey turned, more slowly than he would have done as a regular dorulomon.

"Because you're such a coward?" he growled in retort.

"Call me a coward if you must. We both know that isn't true. I will spar with you however much you could want-"

 _"I don't want you to train me!"_

"-but I will not fight you in earnest. Trey. _Trey,_ listen to me! I will not fight you!"

"Traitor!" Trey roared.

Assessing the battlefield, Trey checked on Shadow's location and intentions. His location: leaning on a tree a short distance away, one foot crossed over the other as if he didn't expect to have to move any time soon. His intentions? To watch the fight but not participate. Blackwargremon expressions could be hard to read but his body language seemed to be saying that he thought the whole scene was absurd. His demeanor wasn't mocking, it was... disdainful.

If Frost hadn't been there and done what he had just done, Trey would have gone for Shadow. Instead he focussed all his efforts on cornering Frost.

"Traitor?" Frost blurted, ducking another of Trey's attacks. "Why don't we talk about that, instead of fighting? I don't know what you heard, but - Trey? _Trey!_ Listen! - you will find out more in thirty seconds of talking than you will fighting me. For god's sake Trey, just-"

Frost lurched, and then gurgled, and all movement stopped. Even the birds in the trees and the wind seemed to pause as the two digimon took in what had happened. Trey panted, one hand still holding onto his spear, the other end still in Frost's abdomen. Frost's claws held onto the spear as if keeping it in place, his eyes bulging and seeking Trey's own.

Out of the corner of his eye Trey saw Shadow stand up straight, every fibre of his being attentive. "Brother..." his voice spoke quietly.

So much blood.

Trey pulled his spear out of Frost's belly and grip and levelled it at Shadow, trying to pretend that his conviction wasn't flagging. One down, one to go...

"Stop!" said Frost, trying to sound strong but the word coming out weak. He held up a hand as if to tell both of them to wait a moment. His other hand was pressed to his abdomen to staunch the blood. "Shadow... you know... why Trey... is angry. Stay out... of this."

Shadow approached regardless, almost seeming to disregard the danger Trey presented. "He hurt you. Frost, brother..."

Frost interrupted him and Shadow stopped speaking, although Frost's voice was starting to sound all the weaker, all the quieter. "I... made a mistake... when we slept together, Shadow... These are... dangerous... times. Betraying... one's friends... it's a bad idea... Trey is... in his rights... to distrust me."

For the first time since his transformation Trey felt his aggression ebb away. He lowered his spear and looked at the damage he had done. "You..." he mumbled at Frost, his brain numb all of a sudden. "Whose side are you on?" The question came without bitterness - he just wanted to know Frost's answer. Surely it would be an honest one in a situation like this?

To his surprise, Frost managed a smile. "Yours, Trey. I was always on your side."

"But the betrayal..." Trey said, still numb, distractedly saving his spear to indicate Shadow.

"A mistake... A bad mistake. He always was... the seductive one... and I was too... easily tempted." His posture was getting lower, his back bending and his chin getting closer to his chest as he bled out. "I... I wish that I... was not always... so trapped... by my responsibilities... Shadow... represents freedom..."

Trey lowered his spear so that the tip rested on the ground. _What have I done?_

"That was all it was, Trey... A bad lapse of judgement... but just a lapse..."

Trey found himself wanting to ask more questions. A part of his mind told him he should be focussing on getting Frost medical help, but he was too numb to think straight. He found himself asking the next question even as his mind started mobilising the idea of getting Frost to safety.

"And you and I?"

Frost made as if to answer but then everything turned white. And there was the roar of a detonation.

xXx

When the light-spots faded from Trey's eyes and the roar left his ears he saw that a few things had changed: firstly, Mac was here, being supported by Tundra, apparently able to walk despite having been through the sympathetic pains of Trey's digivolution. Frost and Shadow were huddled on the floor together, Frost unconscious and no longer gripping his wound, Shadow instead pressing his hand to it and looking worriedly at his younger brother's face.

"Are you finally going to stop now?" asked Mac pointedly, panting slightly but still energetic enough to glare balefully at Trey.

Trey looked down again at his spear, his feelings of regret only getting more acute as time went on. "Yes. Of course. I am sorry."

"Is this what it comes to?" Mac continued. "Blood revenge over a bit of cheating? Nobody likes to be cheated on, Trey, but this-"

Trey was barrelled to one side and he instinctively rolled to stand up and face whatever had attacked him. His numbness was cleared away in a fraction of a second and he found himself noting everything and everyone in efficient snapshots: Shadow retreating with Frost in his arms as if something had come that even he was afraid of, heaving the big icewargreymon along with difficulty. Frost bleeding out from not having his wound staunched, his head lolling. Tundra dragging a limping Mac out of harm's way, both with panicked eyes and open mouths from shock or from shouting warnings.

A great black-armoured figure. Chaosgallantmon, a chaotic digimon, its hand-lance gleaming and ready for attack.

There was no time to argue any more, no time for bitterness or regret or argument about what sides everymon was on. This danger meant they were _all_ on the same side. Trey's newly-cleared mind immediately set to working out how they as a team were going to beat it. _Wait a minute, what do I mean as a team? Who else here is strong enough?_ Frost was clearly out of action, and he needed Shadow's attention right now. Neither Mac nor Tundra were strong enough by far to fight an enemy like this, and if Tundra left Mac on his own then Mac wouldn't be maneuverable enough anyway.

It was up to Trey.

In a flash he realised that he _was_ bigger than the pettiness he had just dished out. Mac was right to be disappointed in him - he could do better. He would do better, starting with protecting those he held dear.

But this problem was two-tier, wasn't it? Not only was it up to him, but he had to see that Frost and Mac got the attention they both needed, Frost urgently so.

Supporting the injured pair was going to be up to Shadow and Tundra. Trey would face the chaos knight on his own. He avoided squaring up to the virus digimon for the moment to put off the fight for a few seconds and gave a set of instructions, clipped and precise: "Shadow, go with Tundra and get help for Frost." Tundra was also injured; he might need help. They would have their work cut out between them to get both casualties to safety in time but he would have to trust the pair of them to do that. He found himself assessing Shadow for trustworthiness far more swiftly than he might have even a minute ago and although he didn't entirely trust Shadow, found himself responding to the risk instead of feeling bitter. "Tundra, show Shadow the infirmiary and then find Lilymon. Tell her what's happened. Get her to fetch Rex and the others if she doesn't say she'll do it herself. Send help for Frost and for me. Go!"

He didn't watch them leave, but he heard them all move towards the village all the same. "So it comes to this," he said conversationally to the chaotic knight.

It said nothing, only watched him with small, pale eyes.

"Why don't we both see what we can do for each other, hmm?" asked Trey, and the two digimon began to circle each other. The circling didn't last long and swiftly, they closed in on each other and clashed, coloured metal against black, lance pointing at lance, one growling and baring his teeth, the other impassive.

He wished he hadn't been so proud, that he had digivolved and gotten used to this body before he'd needed it. If he hadn't held back from being trained by Frost, how might he be handling this fight now? Would it even have happened?

"He always brought out the best in me, you know," he told the knight even though he knew the chances of it answering him were slim to none. Perhaps it didn't even understand. Instead, it attacked again. "Frost was good for me. But now? Maybe he's moved on. Now that I'm having to be the responsible one, I wonder-" He stopped talking abruptly as it attacked once again and he parried it.

"I wonder, what would I do with a loose cannon of a mon to look after? It can't be easy, can it?"

The chaos knight showed no signs of considering this and lunged for him. He dodged.

He chuckled. "Of course. You wouldn't know about being reasonable, would you, chaos creature?"

Trey had learned his lesson. He kept the battle as low-key as he could, avoiding escalating the battle so that the viral knight didn't take him out. He stalled for time and as he did, he learned a little about his new body and abilities. He took a few hits and by the time the others came he was bruised and sore, but he was still alive and he had his friends by his side.

"Ready?" announced Jared, and Trey looked over for long enough to see that he'd brought Sinber, Drack and Angelos with him. The others answered him not with words but with a great battlecry. Together, Trey and his friends advanced on the chaosgallantmon.

THE END.


End file.
